Page 12 of Daddy Marc's Gem (Club Sensation #2)

Marc was so giddy with happiness that he wanted to shout to the world how much he loved Foster. He chuckled to himself, refusing to make eye contact with Zane who was helping him carry the other end of a cedar chest. If his buddy knew what he was thinking, he’d assume Marc had taken a trip to Looney Town.

“Here?” Zane asked.

Marc nodded. “Yeah, right at the end of the bed.”

They both straightened, letting out hearty puffs of breath. Zane glanced his way.

“What are you chuckling about?” His lips quirked in a smile. “I can’t remember seeing you this lighthearted before. It’s a good look on you.”

Marc ran a hand through his hair, trying to appear casual despite the warmth spreading through him. “Just happy, that’s all.”

“Just happy.” Zane favored him with a knowing smirk. “Right. And I’m just mildly interested in power exchange.”

“Shut up.”

Marc laughed, glancing toward the hallway to make sure Foster wasn’t within earshot. His amazing boy was in the kitchen with Ryan and Ty, organizing dishes and cookware. Ryan was giving him gardening tips and Ty had promised to teach him some gourmet recipes that Foster was anxious to try.

“Seriously though,” Zane said, lowering his voice. “I haven't seen you like this in all the years I’ve known you. The boy’s good for you.”

“I never thought...” He cleared the emotion from his throat. “That I'd find someone like him. Someone who fits.”

Zane clapped him on the shoulder. “Sometimes the universe gets it right. And sometimes it takes a bit of courage to recognize when it does.”

Marc nodded, his gaze drifting toward the doorway again as if he could somehow see through the walls to where Foster was arranging kitchenware, adding his personal touches. The house felt different already – warmer, more alive.

“I was beginning to think...” Marc paused, searching for the right words. “That maybe what I wanted didn’t exist outside of fantasy. That no one could possibly want the same things I did, in the same way.”

Zane leaned against the door’s threshold, crossing his arms. “And now?”

“Now I'm terrified I'll wake up, and it'll all have been a dream.” Marc dragged his palm across the top of his head. “He’s so perfect, Zane. And so damaged by that asshole ex of his. I want to protect him from everything.”

“That's the Daddy in you talking.” Zane regarded him with a knowing smile. “Remember, he chose you, too. Give him space to heal at his own pace.”

A burst of laughter could be heard from the kitchen, followed by Ryan’s boisterous guffaw. The sounds settled something in Marc’s chest, like puzzle pieces finding their home.

“Come on.” Zane gestured for him to follow. “Let's get the rest of this stuff inside before it rains.”

Marc trailed after him. “Good plan. Then I can order some pizza for us. I’m sure everyone’s starving by now.”

Zane glanced over his shoulder. “While I appreciate the offer, we’ll take a raincheck. I think you and Foster need some quality alone time to celebrate his first official night here.”

“That so?” Marc rubbed his chin. He’d planned on saving it for the following weekend, however… “All right. It’s a deal.”

Hours later, after the last helper had departed with promises to visit soon, Marc closed the front door and leaned against it. Dolly tilted her head, staring up at him with tongue hanging, a dog smile giving the impression that she approved of everything. Marc patted her head then after a moment, she trotted off toward the kitchen where Foster was wiping down counters.

Marc followed, watching Foster from the doorway, taking in the sight of him moving about the room with quiet purpose. Something about the domesticity of it all—Foster caring for the kitchen as if it had always been his home—made Marc’s heart swell. Dolly padded over to Foster, nudging his leg with her nose until he acknowledged her.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Foster scratched behind her ears. “You getting used to your new home yet?"

She responded by licking the back of his hand, drawing a soft laugh from Foster. This was what he’d been missing all these years—not a partner, but this particular man with his gentle ways and shy smiles.

“Hey,” Marc said softly, crossing the room to stand behind him. He slid his hands around Foster’s waist, who relaxed against Marc’s chest. “You don't need to clean anymore. Everything looks perfect.”

Foster stilled his hands on the countertop. “I wanted to make sure I didn't leave a mess. Everyone was so nice to help, and I don’t want to leave your place a disaster on my first official night here.”

“Not mine. Ours.” Marc pressed his lips to the side of Foster’s neck. “Take a lesson from Dolly. She’s already claimed her spot on the braided rug in front of the fireplace. We might have to fight her for it.”

Foster chuckled as he set down the rag, then turned in Marc’s embrace. “She’s not the shy one, that’s for sure.”

They stole tiny kisses from each other for a few moments until Marc deepened the kiss, drawing a soft moan from Foster’s lips. He tasted sweet, like the lemonade they’d all been drinking while working. Marc pulled back to stare into those blue eyes that seemed to shift between shy uncertainty and absolute trust.

“Come with me,” Marc whispered, taking Foster’s hand.

Foster followed without hesitation, his fingers laced through Marc’s. Dolly watched them leave, then settled onto her bed next to the kitchenette.

Marc led Foster to their bedroom where the newly placed cedar chest stood at the foot of the bed. Lamplight cast a warm glow across the room, softening the shadows. Foster’s books had found homes on the shelves, his clothes hung in the closet beside Marc’s, and a framed photo of his grandparents now sat on the nightstand.

“Are you tired? Hungry?”

“A bit tired, but...” Foster trailed off as his gaze met Marc’s, a flush creeping up his neck. “Not too tired for anything you might have in mind.”

Marc smiled, reaching up to trace his thumb along Foster’s jawline. “Daddy’s going to take very good care of you tonight.”

Foster ducked his head. “Come on. When don’t you take amazing care of me?”

Marc leaned in, whispering next to Foster’s ear. “Let’s just say I want tonight to be extra memorable.” The shiver he got in response to his words told him he was on the right track. “But first, I want to make sure you’re completely relaxed and able to enjoy what I have in store for you.” Marc tugged Foster’s hand, guiding him to the adjoining bathroom. “I’m going to draw you a hot bath so you can soak in some Epsom salts while I feed you.”

Foster froze mid-stride, his jaw falling open. “You’re going to feed me in the bathtub? Seriously?”

Marc paused and locked eyes with him. “Do you need to use your safeword?”

He snorted. “Lord, no. I’d be a fool.”

With a chuckle, Marc continued to lead Foster to the bathroom. After carefully undressing him, Foster silent throughout the experience as if in awe, Marc turned on the spigot of the clawfoot tub. He tested the temperature of the water with his wrist. and soon steam was filling the room. He added a cup of lavender-scented salts, swirling his fingers through the heated water to mix it all together.

“Here.” Marc held out his hand. “Let me help you into the tub.”

Foster still hadn’t said a word, but Marc didn’t want to disrupt his calm with questions. He wanted Foster to be completely relaxed for what he had in store for him. Foster sunk into the water with a sigh, letting his head fall back on the rolled-up towel Marc had placed at the lip of the tub. Once Foster seemed settled, he dimmed the lights then lit several candles, the glow from the flames dancing across the tiled walls.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Marc whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

As Marc made his way back to the kitchen, he ran through his mind what sort of finger foods he could quickly put together. He also hoped that the other item he needed for after Foster’s bath was usable. If not, they could still explore in other ways.

Dolly came sniffing around as soon as he opened the cheese and cold cut drawer. He patted her on the head after pulling out all the items he wanted.

“You’re a quick study, aren’t you girl?”

After he gathered everything together on a small platter, tucked two water bottles under his arm, and paid the cheese tax, he returned to their bedroom suite. When he entered the bathroom, it didn’t seem as if Foster had moved, his eyes still closed, his breathing deep and even. The water lapped gently against the porcelain as Marc set the platter on the vanity, then pulled the wooden hamper between that and the tub. He sat on the lid, then retrieved the food, balancing it on his knee.

“You still with me?” Marc kept his voice low so as not to startle him.

Foster’s eyes fluttered open, and he beamed that soft, vulnerable smile that made Marc’s heart ache with tenderness. “Mmm, yes Daddy. Kinda floating a bit.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Marc selected a piece of aged cheddar from the platter. “Open your mouth.”

Foster parted his lips without hesitation, accepting the morsel. A small sound of pleasure escaped him as he chewed. “You got my favorite. Thank you.”

“Only the best for my boy.”

Next, he chose a slice of sweet apple to contrast with the salt of the cheese. Marc watched him chew, mesmerized by the simple joy on his face. The intimacy of caring for Foster in such a basic, nurturing way was almost as satisfying for him as sex.

Almost .

Which brought him back to what he wanted to share with Foster tonight. He reminded himself that Foster might safeword before things ever got started, and he honestly wouldn’t blame him. Even subs who enjoyed ass play didn’t always go for this particular activity. So he needed to prepare himself that Foster might feel the same way.

After several more bites of food, with Marc stealing his own bites here and there, he set the empty plate aside. He dunked his fingers in the bath and frowned.

“The water’s cooling. Are you ready to get out, or would you like me to add some hot water?”

Foster stretched his arms way above his head. “I’m ready to get out.”

Marc reached for a towel, holding it open as Foster stood, water trickling down his lithe body. He took his time drying him, patting the soft fabric against every inch of skin, lingering over the places that made Foster’s breath catch. The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows across Foster’s features as Marc wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Better?” Marc asked, brushing damp strands of golden blond hair from Foster's forehead.

“Much. Thank you.” Foster leaned into the touch, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. “I feel like I'm melting.”

“Mmm…” Marc pressed a kiss to his temple. “Melted boy. My favorite.”

Foster chuckled. “But not too melted for any other tricks you might have up your sleeve.”

“Is that so?” Marc winked.

He guided Foster out of the bathroom and toward their bed, which he’d prepared earlier—fresh sheets, extra pillows, and a condom tucked underneath two folded hand towels on the nightstand. They hadn’t used condoms for a while, and he didn't want Foster wondering what it was for—he wanted his reaction to be genuine.

Marc untucked the towel around Foster’s waist, and it fell to the floor. “Lie on your stomach.”

Foster complied immediately, his fair skin flushed from the bath, his half-hard cock bobbing as he got into place.

“Mine,” Marc murmured, tracing a finger from Foster’s down to the gentle curve of his ass. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Foster quirked a smile. “I think I have some idea.”

Marc chuckled, leaning down to nibble Foster’s ear lobe until he was laughing.

“Tickles!”

“You love extreme sensations, don’t you?” Marc grabbed one of the extra pillows. “Lift your hips.” He stuffed the cushion beneath him, but when Foster bent both his knees in anticipation, Marc stilled him. “Keep one leg straight. I want to try something with you tonight.” Marc dragged his fingertips along Foster’s exposed crease. “Something that requires absolute trust. Do you trust me, baby?”

Foster nodded without hesitation. “With everything, Daddy.”

“Sweet boy.” Marc stroked his cheek. “If at any point you want to stop, you use your safeword. No questions asked, no disappointment. Understand?”

“Yellow to slow down, red to stop. Got it.”

Marc pressed a kiss behind Foster’s ear before moving to the nightstand. When he’d returned to the bedroom from the kitchen, he’d left small paper bag and a paring knife next to the towels. He removed the lube from the drawer then pulled the small wastebasket next to the bed. When he sat on the edge of the mattress, he noted that Foster had lifted his head, his eyebrows dipping low.

“What’s in the bag? Why do you have a knife?”

“Are you using a safeword?”

Foster poked out his bottom lip, his frown deepening as if wrestling with a major quandary. “Dammit.”

“Language.”

“I apologize, Daddy.” He sighed. “Yellow.”

“Do you need me to answer both questions, or is there something else?”

“Well…I don’t really need to know what’s in the bag, but I’ll confess that the knife is bothering me.” He gazed up at Marc, his forehead wrinkled. “I still trust you, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Marc placed his hand on Foster’s shoulder in reassurance, keeping the touch gentle. “But it’s all right if you have questions.” Marc paused to consider the situation. “Let me help you out since the knife seems to be the main issue. It’s a paring knife, meant to cut a food item. It’s not for you. I would never break a hard limit with you. You’ve said no to knife play, and I will honor that no matter what.”

Foster folded his hands and rested his cheek against them. “But see? That makes it sound like I don’t trust you. I feel bad.”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I want.” Marc caressed Foster’s back with soft strokes. “You know, there are layers to trust. For instance, just now you trusted that I’d stop if you used a safeword. You also trusted that I wouldn’t judge you for using it, and I don’t.”

“Hmm.” Foster bit his bottom lip. “Fair point. Is it still okay to ask what the knife’s for?”

Marc smiled. From the start, they’d always had such an easy time communicating, even when Foster was unsure about things.

“It’s absolutely okay. And at this point, I think it’s best I explain everything in advance.” Marc unrolled the top of the paper bag. “The only hope you’ll have of enjoying this is if you know what’s happening.” Marc held up a finger as Foster opened his mouth to speak. “And that’s okay, too. Nothing for you to feel bad about.”

Foster nodded against his folded hands, chewing on the end of his thumb as he watched the paper bag as if it were a bomb about to explode. If the situation was different, he’d reprimand Foster for thumb nibbling, but he had bigger fish to fry.

Marc held in a snort. The saying was sort of appropriate when he considered the contents of the bag.

“Here you go.” Marc held up the fresh, uncut piece of ginger root. “Have you ever heard of figging?”

Foster propped himself up on his elbows like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. “No, and what the hell?”

Marc pressed his lips together. “You’re very colorful in the language department tonight.”

In truth, Foster didn’t have much of a potty mouth, so his minor infractions came across as more egregious than they actually were.

“I apologize again.” He shook his head. “But I’m completely lost as to why you brought a piece of raw ginger into the bedroom.”

“Well…” Marc was beginning to feel a bit mischievous. “You love ass play, and the oils from raw ginger are extra zesty.”

“Right, but what does…” Foster’s eyes rounded. “Holy—“ He coughed into his fist. “Cannoli.”

Marc barked out a laugh. “Good save. But now you know what the knife is for.”

Foster tucked some hair behind his ear. “Why not just peel it in the kitchen? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“The fresher the cut, the less potent the juice. But if you decide you want to try it again, we can up the intensity.” Marc waggled his eyebrows. “If I peel it a couple of days ahead of time, I can keep it in a plastic bag in the fridge and let it marinate in its own juices.”

“I see…” Foster stared at the ginger as if he was mind-melding with it. At last, he gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I’m in.”

Marc’s jaw went slack. He hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response. “If you’re ready to keep going, you know what to say.”

Foster smiled, resting his cheek back on his hands. “Green. Can I watch you pare it?”

“Of course.” Marc held up the large root again. “This is a nice one because of the large knob at the bottom of this finger. Serves the same purpose as the base of the butt plug.”

“Good to know.” His lips peeled back in a grimace. “That would be an embarrassing ER visit.”

Marc grunted. “For us both.”

He wasn’t ashamed of his lifestyle, but the judgment within the vanilla community could be brutal at times. Sadly, his practice was based on the awful truth that his clients faced so much criticism and backlash because of how they lived their truth.

Foster watched him in wonder as he prepared the ginger for insertion, carefully peeling away the brown skin and making sure the finger was shaped well and not too thin. Base or not, if the piece snapped off, they’d still have to face the emergency room.

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s ready.” Foster sucked in a deep breath, and Marc rubbed his back again. “Still green?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Before I put this inside you, there are a couple of things to know. I can’t use lube because it will dull the ginger juice. But the juice itself is slick, and I’ll open you up with some spit. Another thing is that this will build in intensity, like a wave before the juice dissipates. Your natural inclination will be to clench.” Marc chuckled. “Clenching will only make it worse. Do your best to let go, to allow the sensations to overtake you instead of fighting them.”

Foster’s lips parted as he nodded, a blend of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” Marc set the peeled ginger root on one of the hand towels and stroked Foster's back soothingly. “I'm going to open you up first.”

Marc positioned himself between Foster’s legs, admiring the gentle curves of his boy’s ass. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to each cheek before spreading them wide. Foster's breath hitched as Marc circled his tongue around Foster’s hole, teasing the sensitive flesh.

He tasted his boy slowly, methodically, using his tongue to relax the tight ring of muscle. Foster’s body responded, melting beneath his ministrations, soft moans escaping his lips. When Marc finally pushed his tongue inside Foster’s ass, he gasped and arched his back.

Marc worked his tongue deeper, relishing Foster's small gasps and sighs. He took his time, making sure Foster was thoroughly relaxed before pulling back to admire his work. His pink pucker glistened with saliva, twitching slightly as if seeking more attention.

“I’m putting in the ginger now.”

Marc’s voice deepened, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He picked up the peeled ginger, its pungent scent sharp in the air. He positioned the smooth, tapered end against Foster’s entrance, circling it slowly to spread the juice.

“Deep breath in.” Marc prodded Foster’s rim with the blunt end of the root. “And exhale slowly.”

As Foster released his breath, Marc eased the ginger inside him with gentle pressure. Foster tensed momentarily before forcing himself to relax, taking the root until the wider base rested against his entrance. At first, there seemed to be no reaction beyond the usual discomfort of insertion, and Marc watched Foster's face carefully for signs of distress.

“How does it feel?” Marc rested his hand on the small of Foster’s back.

“Um…just like something inside me,” Foster replied, his voice steady. “Nothing too—” His words cut off abruptly as his eyes widened. “Oh... oh wow. Tingling.”

Marc smiled, watching the realization dawn across Foster’s features. The ginger’s oils were beginning to take effect, creating a warm sensation that would soon transform into something much more intense.

“There it is.” Marc smiled, fascinated by the host of emotions playing across his boy’s features. “Remember what I said about clenching.”

“S-sure. Clenching.” Foster’s breathing picked up in pace. “It’s... it’s getting warmer.”

“That’s only the beginning, baby.” Marc caressed Foster's flank as the boy squirmed against the pillow. “The sensation will build over the next few minutes. I’m standing up, but I’m right next to you.”

Foster appeared so lost in sensation that he wasn’t sure he’d even heard him. He kept a careful eye on Foster while quickly divesting himself of his clothes. He’d left the option of fucking his boy on the table by getting the condom out but hadn’t been sure since he was a bit tired after the long day. But the more that Foster reacted to the ginger, the harder his cock got.

Foster's breathing quickened, his fingers clutching at the sheets. “So much… it’s so much…” His voice hitched as another wave of sensation clearly washed through him. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his back, and his thighs trembled. The flush that had started in his cheeks now spread down his neck and across his shoulders.

“You're doing so well, baby.” Marc tore open the condom and rolled it onto his dick. “Remember to breathe, let the intensity wash over you.”

He slathered on a generous amount of lube, which would help quell the heat in Foster’s passage. Marc climbed onto the bed, moving between Foster’s legs. Someday, he’d love to tie him down, so he’d have to take it, but that was a discussion for another day. Bondage was a soft limit for now.

Foster pressed his forehead to the pillow and let out a low guttural sound. “Oh god…I can’t decide if I want it to stop or if I want more.”

Marc grasped his lubed dick. “You’re such a good boy, trying something new for Daddy. But it’s time for me to replace the ginger with my cock. The lube will help, I promise.”

Foster nodded shakily, his breath coming in short pants. Marc grasped the base of the root and slowly pulled out the ginger, eliciting a whimper from Foster. The root glistened, its spicy scent mingling with the musk of arousal that filled the room.

After setting the ginger on the paper bag, he slid his cock into Foster’s snug hole, groaning from the familiar tight sheath encasing his hard length. He leaned forward, the move driving his cock deeper into his boy. Foster let out a breathy moan as Marc seated himself fully in his ass.

“Let yourself feel it all.”

Marc began to move, slowly at first, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in with deliberate control. Each thrust pushed a soft sound of pleasure from Foster. He established a rhythm, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of Foster’s slick channel.

“That’s it, baby. Take Daddy’s thick cock like a good little boy.”

Foster’s breathing stuttered as Marc angled his hips, searching for that sweet spot that would send his boy over the edge. Foster cried out, his body jerking.

“There we go,” Marc slammed in again. “Right there.”

Marc leaned down, pressing his chest against Foster's back, surrounding him completely. He scraped his teeth across Foster’s neck, Foster writhing beneath him, pushing back to meet each thrust. Marc chased his orgasm, the promise of release dancing in front of him.

Right as he neared the peak, he shoved his hand beneath Foster’s belly and grabbed his leaking cock, the residual juice on his fingers mixing with Foster’s precum. Marc knew the second that the oil ignited on Foster’s cock. With a strangled cry, he tensed beneath Marc, his cock spilling cum over Marc’s fist. His ass clenched rhythmically around Marc’s length, the sensation pushing him over the edge.

Marc grunted through his climax then collapsed onto the bed next to Foster. He was way too spent to hold himself up so he wouldn’t crush him. But he needed his boy, and his boy needed the reassurance of his Daddy.

He tugged Foster to him, then wrapped his frame around his back so they could spoon. Neither of them spoke for several minutes as they came down from their post-fuck high.

Marc drew lazy circles on Foster’s chest with his fingertips, using his other arm to cradle Foster’s head. Foster stilled Marc’s hand then laced their fingers together against his body.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Marc kissed the back of Foster’s head, tears burning in his eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you’ll ever know.”

Foster’s body relaxed against him, and right as Marc was about to ask what his thoughts were on figging, soft snores filled the room. Marc smiled against Foster’s skin, inhaling traces of lavender, ginger, and the sweet, musky sweat he’d come to associate with his precious boy.

For as long as he lived, he’d dedicate himself to making Foster happy. After all, Foster had brought him a joy he’d despaired of ever having. To Marc, Foster was everything. A hidden gem that he’d found when all had seemed lost.

A priceless treasure.

He closed his eyes, holding Foster in a comforting embrace, and dreamed of all the beautiful days that stretched out before them.

* * * *

Thank you so much for reading Marc and Foster’s romantic and spicy journey to an ever after! Are you ready for more spicy romance set in the world of Club Sensation?